


Save Your Love (Take Mine From Me)

by Auber_Gine_Dreams



Series: acts of service [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, licensed sexual surrogate therapy, varied sexual partners in a professional context
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23190727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auber_Gine_Dreams/pseuds/Auber_Gine_Dreams
Summary: “You’re allowed to want to sleep with him,” Jeonghan says, that same knowing look coming back full force. “And don’t say that’s not what you want.”Wonwoo pulls at their hands and hides his face behind them.“I just,” Wonwoo sighs, peeking out from the top of their fingers. Jeonghan is right. It’s easier to talk about things in the warm post sex haze. “I might. Want to. Sleep with him.”“You should really talk to him,” Jeonghan says gently, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his temple. “Seungcheol would never turn down something that would help you feel better.”--Or--Wonwoo definitely isn't in denial. Seungcheol definitely isn't oblivious. The office definitely doesn't have a betting pool on who will crack first.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Jeon Wonwoo
Series: acts of service [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652182
Comments: 31
Kudos: 193





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One day Hyb said to me "Service Beta Seungcheol." Later that day, Hyb said to me "he goes both ways." Snakes manifested in my house and Hyb opened this delightful little universe to me!! I'm really excited to be doing this sort of collaboration and I hope you all enjoy it too!!
> 
> Title is from "Susie Save Your Love" by Allie X and Mitski.
> 
> This definitely overlaps with [Hyb's fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22989421/chapters/54962125), and while it's not a required read for this to make sense, it's absolutely amazing and will definitely enhance the experience!!!
> 
> The premise of this series is sexual surrogacy in an a/b/o universe (the idea being that treatment is a three-person effort of client, therapist, and surrogate). While Wonwoo and Seungcheol are coworkers, there will be mention of clients and interactions with them, sexual and non-sexual.

_To feel anything deranges you  
_ _To be seen feeling anything strips you naked  
_ _-Anne Carson_

“You’re early,” Seungcheol says, winking into the camera. He can see himself in the tiny window at the corner of his computer screen, glasses falling down his nose, grin just this side of flirty. 

In the larger field of his video call, Joshua rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, like Jeonghan hasn’t rubbed it in my face enough.” Joshua sounds irritated but it’s half hearted at best. “If this keeps up I’ll be at five month heats by the end of the year.”

Seungcheol’s smile morphs into something less teasing and more genuine. 

“I’m glad. Really. Maybe by next year you two can handle things on your own.”

Joshua hums, a small smile on his face.

“It’s a big step. I’d like to keep seeing you a few times after things stabilize just to make sure.”

Seungcheol’s job is more talk therapy, handling not only his own small pool of clients but taking on the majority of initial client interviews for the company, sorting through personality tests and case files to determine who would be the best person for the job.

Seeing Joshua in a surrogate context was a request from Jeonghan personally. Joshua, an Omega working in natural medicine, who went from Jeonghan’s client to his husband, who only gave into Jeonghan’s insistence that they seek help when his last heat had him stuck in bed for ten days. 

_He doesn’t want any Alphas if we can avoid it_ , Jeonghan had said in the hush of his office. _He needs someone else. Please. Just a trial run._

The trial run morphed from weekly sessions to monthly, Joshua’s heats going from eight months apart and lasting as long as two weeks, to a shorter but more regular six months.

And now he’s early in the best kind of way.

“Will you be able to fit me in on such short notice?” Joshua asks, the lightest bit of worry in his voice. His eyebrows furrow, barely noticeable on the grainy laptop camera, but Joshua is his client. He can see a lot of things Joshua tries to hide. It would be unprofessional for Seungcheol to say _I’d drop everything for you_. He cares for all of his clients, really, but Joshua is more than that, almost like family. It’s a blurry kind of line, different from even the service he provides to his coworkers.

Seungcheol gives him a big, open smile and pushes his glasses back into place. 

“It’ll have to be Wednesday instead of Friday. Can you make that work?”

Joshua lets out a breath, relief scrawled all over his face. “Yeah, yeah. Definitely. I can close the shop for a few days. What time should we expect you?”

Seungcheol wonders how it’ll go. Sometimes they get straight to business, Joshua tied to the headboard or held just where Jeonghan wants him. Sometimes they grab dinner and talk for hours, until Joshua’s face is pink and his eyes are clouded and Seungcheol can smell him, normal scent mixed with pheromones of heat. 

It’s better to leave time for either option. 

“How’s 7?”

It’s Joshua’s turn to wink this time, playful but with a devilish grin, full of all the things he’s already planning. Joshua and Jeonghan are more suited to each other than anyone would ever guess, but Seungcheol sees it clear as day, has experienced it first hand.

“I’ll see you then,” Joshua says, shutting down the video call with a final wave. 

Seungcheol slumps back in his desk chair, stares up at the ceiling and grins. There’s a special kind of gratification whenever treatment goes as expected. That it’s working on his friend’s husband makes it all the sweeter.

It’s half an hour later that Jihoon walks into his office. He looks much more tired than usual, dark circles stark under his eyes. Seungcheol can’t help when his mouth draws down.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his desk.

Jihoon frowns, eyes on the oak like he’s not sure how to start. Jihoon is only easy to read because Seungcheol has known him since university, both of them young and figuring out just what they wanted, how they wanted to fit into the world, how they fit together.

“I think I pushed him too far,” Jihoon finally admits, voice soft and smaller than Seungcheol has heard it in a long time. “There are things he didn’t disclose until later. I just —” 

Jihoon looks into Seungcheol’s eyes. He’s genuinely worried about this one, his shoulders almost trembling. There’s an undercurrent of real emotional investment. It’s a line they all have to tread very carefully. Like going undercover, everything is real but there has to be a certain level of distance. Biology, hormones, physical touch, it’s easy to get swept up in it. Rule number one of going undercover and all that. 

There’s something about this one, Seungcheol knows. He was hesitant, leaning toward Yixing but Wonwoo disagreed, convinced that Jihoon was the one for the job. Seeing Jihoon in front of him like this has him skeptical. 

“You’re doing great with him,” Seungcheol says, reaching out to rub his thumb over Jihoon’s knuckles. “I know he’s tough, but you’re tougher, and not that Alpha bullshit kind of tough. You’re never scared to look at clients and see them for who they really are.” Jihoon scoffs but Seungcheol is quick to shush him. “I mean it. If you’re feeling stressed, I’ve got time today. Whatever you need.”

Jihoon watches Seungcheol’s thumb move over his hand. He doesn’t say anything for a long time. 

“I don’t want to make him worse,” Jihoon whispers, biting his lip and looking away.

Seungcheol takes Jihoon’s hand between both of his. 

“I don’t know what’s got you like this, and you don’t have to tell me,” Seungcheol says hastily, “but you know from a hierarchy standpoint that’s not going to happen. I meet with him every week. You know that if I was concerned with his progress I would come to you about it.”

Jihoon frowns and wriggles his hand out from between Seungcheol’s. It takes him a moment to speak.

“My place. Tonight,” he finally says, flicking his eyes up before looking away. “If you’re really free.”

Jihoon stands up and walks to the door, opening it without waiting for him to answer. Seungcheol can’t help but grin. He allows himself to say it, this time.

“I’d drop everything for you. You know that.”

Jihoon gives him one of those small, genuine smiles he reserves for special occasions. He walks out and almost collides with Wonwoo, who mumbles a quick apology before continuing toward his office. Their eyes meet, and Seungcheol has the strangest feeling that he’s done something wrong. 

Out of everyone he works with, Wonwoo is one of the hardest for Seungcheol to read. Sometimes, like now, Seungcheol feels like they’re really just coworkers, like they haven’t been friends for years. Like Seungcheol could spend every day chipping away at it and would never see what Wonwoo wanted to keep hidden. 

  
  


~☊~☊~☊~☊~

  
  


Jeonghan tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. He looks as good as he always does, dressed in a baby blue button down, sleeves rolled up over his forearms. He’s wearing a scent masking cologne, a work courtesy everyone abides by. Wonwoo can still smell him, the barest hint of plum and orchid, all things dark and dangerous.

The headache forming behind Wonwoo’s eyes gives a warning throb.

“I’m just feeling a little stressed these days,” he says.

Jeonghan tilts his head and the strand of blonde he tucked behind his ear falls free. 

“Tough client?” Jeonghan asks. He rests his chin on his hand and stares at him across Wonwoo’s desk. They’ve switched chairs for this at Wonwoo’s insistence. It’s not professional to talk things out if he’s not the one on the other side, but going to Jeonghan’s office is admitting the problem is bigger than he cares to. “Or is it something in your personal life? You’re one of the best when it comes to work-life balance.”

It’s ironic, really, that Wonwoo can’t just tell Jeonghan what it is. He’s a therapist, he knows it’s not easy but it’s needed. He just...can’t.

“A little of both, I think,” Wonwoo says, his eyes flicking down to Jeonghan’s fingers tapping against his cheek. They both know it’s a tell, avoiding eye contact, the words a half-truth at best. He hopes Jeonghan will go easy on him just this once. 

Jeonghan smirks. Wonwoo’s chest tightens. 

“You’re lucky I know you so well,” he says. Wonwoo breathes out, relief instant. “You’re always more inclined to talk after you’ve knotted something.” Wonwoo frowns. Jeonghan’s smirk deepens. Wonwoo frowns harder. “How’s tonight at 8? The usual hotel. I’ll text you the room number.”

When he meets Jeonghan’s eyes again they’re half-lidded, his scent hitting Wonwoo a little more deliberately this time. Desire unfurls like a banner under his navel. He’s never been one to turn down an offer to get out of his own head, especially not from Jeonghan.

“Sounds perfect.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s later, when Wonwoo is flat on his back, arms tied above his head and Jeonghan working his hips over his cock, that he finally lets it slip.

“Jihoon has been spending a lot more time with Seungcheol since he got that new client, don’t you think?”

Jeonghan arches his back, blonde hair spilling across his shoulders, gasping as he finds the right angle. He looks down at Wonwoo with a wolfish smile.

“ _Oh_ ,” Jeongan gasps, shuddering as Wonwoo slides deeper inside of him, “I should have known it was about Seungcheol. You always, _ah fuck_ , always lose your head a little bit with him.”

Wonwoo plants his foot and slams up into Jeonghan, who lets out a particularly filthy moan and falls forward, gripping Wonwoo’s arms and rocking back down to meet him. They fall quiet for a bit, more concerned with bringing each other to completion than words. Wonwoo’s thighs are drenched in slick, the scent of it mixed with Jeonghan’s pheromones making him almost dizzy. He wants to grip Jeonghan’s hips and really give it to him, but there are rules to this, more lenient than with clients, but rules all the same. There’s also the matter of the nylon rope around his wrists, gentle but expert knots connecting him to the headboard, secure enough that he’d really have to work for it to break free. 

Not that he wants to.

Wonwoo does the best he can to fuck up into him. He can feel Jeonghan’s thighs shake against him, knows he’s getting close. Jeonghan meets his eyes, their faces kissing close, and bites his lip. 

“Do you want to know what he likes?” Jeonghan practically purrs, lips grazing against Wonwoo’s with each word. His hips slow to nothing more than grinding down on Wonwoo’s cock. It’s maddening in the best way. “I could tell you _so many_ things that get him off.”

There’s a small part of Wonwoo that prickles at the words, wants to growl out _this isn’t helping_. But then Wonwoo pictures Seungcheol back at Jeonghan’s apartment, buried in Joshua’s slick heat and his vision gets a little hazy.

Wonwoo has done this with Jeonghan enough that it’s easy to fill in the gaps. Joshua tied with elegant knots, more artful than restraining, Jeonghan at the head of the bed watching, or maybe behind Seungcheol, murmuring in filthy detail exactly what to do to his husband. Would Jeonghan touch him, too? Would Seungcheol shiver at Jeonghan’s praise? Would he come from it?

Jeonghan circles his hips and Wonwoo feels heat pool under his navel. Jeonghan grins, satisfied. He sits up and grips himself, stroking efficiently.

“It’s probably exactly what you’re imagining,” he says, breath hitching, “He gives as much as he takes, always.” He picks up the pace and it’s no time at all until Wonwoo’s back arches off the bed at the force of his orgasm. Jeonghan is back to grinding his hips down on Wonwoo’s knot, no space for anything else. He smiles almost triumphantly as he comes, coating Wonwoo’s stomach and soaking him with slick. 

Jeonghan falls forward into the mess on Wonwoo’s skin rather than untie him. He doesn’t mind. His wrists don’t even hurt. As much as Wonwoo can be tactile after sex, Jeonghan has never been that way with him. Sometimes he wonders if that’s how Jeonghan is with every Alpha he sleeps with, client and friend alike. He’s never thought to ask.

It takes a while for their breathing to even out. Jeonghan spends the time waiting for Wonwoo’s knot to go down tracing the line of white cord around his wrist. It’s patient but expectant. 

Wonwoo can feel it like a solid lump in his throat. Jeonghan noses at his neck with a huff. 

“Tell me. I know you want to,” he says, sinking his teeth into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Wonwoo shivers. 

It’s not that Wonwoo makes a habit of lying. It’s more that he’s not the kind of person to talk out his problems like this. It’s easier to work them out physically, release the stress, take the edge off, then go back to his normal life. Rinse and repeat. If his clients did this he would scold them as gently as he could, but he’s not his own client. 

“I’m just worried,” Wonwoo admits. He can use a half-truth. It’s close enough. “Seungcheol is going to get overworked if he keeps taking more clients on top of Jihoon seeing him so frequently. We can’t afford that.”

Jeonghan bites him harder.

“ _Ow, God_ , what was that for?”

Jeonghan looks up and frowns. “I know when you’re hiding something from me. I won’t make you tell me, but next time keep that in mind.”

Wonwoo sighs, wiggling his fingers with the urge to throw a hand over his eyes. Jeonghan and his damn training and his Omega senses and whatever dark magic he uses to see straight through everything and everyone.

He unties Wonwoo with practiced ease and slips off of him, rolling on the bed next to him with a groan. Wonwoo rubs his wrists, reflexive habit more than discomfort, and gets up enough to toss the condom in the trash. 

When he lays back down on the bed Jeonghan grabs both of Wonwoo’s hands and laces their fingers together. Like he really doesn’t trust Wonwoo to keep his hands in sight, or maybe like he actually wants to comfort him. 

“You’re allowed to want to sleep with him,” Jeonghan says, that same knowing look coming back full force. “And don’t say that’s not what you want.”

Wonwoo pulls at their hands and hides his face behind them. It’s always like this with Jeonghan. It’s some kind of Omega magic that makes him forget it each time.

“I just,” Wonwoo sighs, peeking out from the top of their fingers. Jeonghan is right. It’s easier to talk about things in the warm post sex haze. “I might. Want to. Sleep with him.” 

“You should really talk to him,” Jeonghan says gently, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his temple. “Seungcheol would never turn down something that would help you feel better.”

“That’s not...I don’t _need_ that from him,” Wonwoo whines, and Jeonghan pulls their hands back to the middle with an exaggerated eye roll. “He’s already got so much to deal with. I won’t add to it.”

It would be easy to tell Jeonghan. He would understand right away what’s really got Wonwoo so on edge. But then Jeonghan might ask him, _Well, then what do you want from him?_ And the truth is Wonwoo isn’t ready to say it out loud.

So he keeps his thoughts to himself, and Jeonghan washes off the smell of sex in the hotel shower before heading home to his husband. Wonwoo is alone in an empty hotel room, feeling physically less tense but mind racing like it’s life or death, thoughts of a certain Beta bouncing around until his headache is back, a painful throb in his temple.

  
  
  


~☊~☊~☊~☊~

  
  
  


Wonwoo has had a keen sense of smell since he presented. In university, his Alpha friends would always joke that Betas don’t have much of a scent, an easy way to pick them out of a crowd, and Wonwoo disagreed so vehemently it became a running joke for the rest of his time there. He’s seen specialists about it, but there’s nothing to be done. It’s just the way his body is made. Not harmful, just annoying.

Seungcheol walks by his office dressed in jeans and a thin sweater. His hair is no more tousled than usual, his clothes probably ironed right before he put them on. Wonwoo can tell right away that Seungcheol has been with Jihoon.

Scents transfer much easier than people think. Most wouldn’t even notice the slight mingling that happens when you brush past someone in the hall, but Wonwoo can smell it easily, clearly. Compared to that Seungcheol is wearing Jihoon’s scent like his body is soaked in it. 

_He probably got knotted last night_ , Wonwoo’s brain is quick to supply. 

Seungcheol gives him that soft, friendly smile, the same as every morning, before walking next door to his office. Wonwoo feels a poisonous mix of longing and jealousy spread through him. He crushes the feelings like a fist around his heart, staunch refusal to indulge it for even a second. What anyone does between each other here is strictly professional, though a little more like friends helping friends than what they do for their clients. Seungcheol is helping Jihoon deal with work related stress. It’s part of his job. They aren’t together like _that_.

After Seungcheol shuts his office door Wonwoo practically sprints down the hall. He barely waits for Vernon to open his door before launching in.

“Do you have any free time today?” Wonwoo asks, and he knows even without Vernon’s raised eyebrows that he sounds half panicked. He feels it, too. 

Vernon walks back to his computer and pulls up his schedule, squinting at the blocks of color marking out his day.

“I have 45 mintues like, right now,” Vernon answers. It’s more soothing than if he purposefully sent waves of pheromones at him. 

Wonwoo shuts the door and clicks the lock.

“Perfect. Let me blow you.”

Vernon sits in the chair behind his desk, amused more than surprised, and pops open the button of his jeans.

“It’s that bad, hm?” 

Wonwoo takes the few steps separating them and kneels down on the carpet, eyes on Vernon’s fingers working open his zipper. 

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Wonwoo says softly, mouth turning down at the corners even as his mind goes fuzzy with want. 

It’s here that Vernon should insist he talk about it, that he would, if Wonwoo were a client and not a coworker. Instead he laughs under his breath and sets Wonwoo’s glasses on his desk.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Whatever you need, man.”

Vernon is an angel, really. The first time they did this he tried to pry, asked a few too many on point questions and Wonwoo had simply walked out. A learning experience for both of them. Now Vernon just enjoys the ride, cradles the back of Wonwoo’s head in his hand and rocks into his throat, licks the taste of his own come out of his mouth, and waits patiently to see if Wonwoo will reveal whatever thing has tipped him over the edge.

Sometimes he does. Sometimes he doesn’t. Vernon doesn’t mind either way.

Wonwoo hasn’t been able to find the words to say that he can’t stop imagining Seungcheol taking Jihoon’s knot, that he wants to see Seungcheol come undone. That he wants it to be his scent all over Seungcheol’s skin. That he wants something that’s not quite a casual request between coworkers.

So he walks out of Vernon’s office and Vernon lets him go, a strangely knowing look in his eye before Wonwoo shuts the door behind him.

  
  


~☊~☊~☊~☊~

  
  
  


The next few weeks are a blur of talk sessions and a visit to Jihoon’s apartment. The longer that Jihoon sees Mingyu, the more Seungcheol wonders if Wonwoo had some kind of ulterior motive for insisting on the match. _A handful_ , he’d told Jihoon, and he meant it. Seungcheol sees it more and more during their talk sessions. Mingyu is already more relaxed, more sure of himself. Mouthier too, and that’s where Seungcheol knew Jihoon would get in over his head. And whenever he feels like it’s getting to be too much, Seungcheol is right there to help him through it. Sometimes they talk. Sometimes they fuck. Whatever Jihoon needs. 

It’s Friday when Jeonghan mentions going out for drinks and the entire office takes it as an invitation to join in on the fun. Even Wonwoo says he plans to come along, and really, Seungcheol is glad he’s doing something to relax. Ever since he suggested Mingyu as Jihoon’s client, he’s been strangely tense. Seungcheol isn’t completely sure the two things are related but it’s the only link he can clearly see. The last time Wonwoo dropped by his office with a coffee he didn’t ask for but desperately needed, Seungcheol asked him about it. Wonwoo just shook his head, _don’t worry about me_ , soft but insistent in that way of speaking he has. Authoritative without being overbearing. Less Alpha command and more gentle surety.

The place is packed by the time Seungcheol arrives, freshly showered and dressed in dark jeans and a tee shirt. He scans for his coworkers first, figures Jihoon or Seunghyun will stick out among the crowd, but the dim lighting and nightclub atmosphere make it impossible. Seungcheol heads to the bar, orders a whiskey neat and takes his first sip right when Jeonghan walks up to him.

“Dance with us,” he says, no greeting, all devilish grin and dark eyes. He’s not wearing any scent neutralizers. Most people don’t, outside of work. Some clients use it after sessions depending on their personal situation and how discreet they need to be, but here, everything is fair game. Seungcheol can smell Joshua, too, their scents mingled like they’re a real mated pair. He downs the rest of his drink and lets Jeonghan pull him to where Joshua is waiting. 

The music is loud, a constant pulse that sends the whiskey straight to Seungcheol’s head. Joshua takes his hand and pulls their bodies flush together. He smiles, radiant, like Seungcheol is his husband, too. He traces the swirling flowers on his left arm before looping his hands behind his neck. Seungcheol lets him lead.

“You’re in a good mood tonight,” Seungcheol says, leaning in so he can say it next to Joshua’s ear. When he pulls back the corner of Joshua’s lip quirks up.

“I feel better than I’ve felt in a long time. I’m just enjoying myself, that’s all.”

Jeonghan’s hands slide across Seungcheol’s waist and it’s almost grounding, familiar because they’ve worked to make it that way for the three of them. He tips his head back against Jeonghan’s shoulder. Joshua’s hands are under his shirt and meet Jeonghan’s in the middle. 

Joshua leans in to kiss him and Seungcheol’s body races with it, out in the open. It would be a lie to say he isn’t a little smug. A Beta with two Omegas. When Jeonghan’s teeth settle against the side of his neck he can practically smell the envy around them. 

Seungcheol loses track of time, of everything that isn’t Jeonghan’s hands and Joshua’s lips, and by the time they separate Seungcheol is half hard in his jeans. Joshua’s eyes are dark with it, the scent of his arousal insistent in the air. 

“We should go,” Jeonghan says, eyes a perfect match to his husband when he looks at Seungcheol. “You’re more than welcome to leave with us if you want. We can continue back home.”

“You two go ahead.” Seungcheol grins. “Tell me all about it next time.”

Joshua blows him a kiss before they’re lost to the crowd. Seungcheol makes his way back to the bar for another drink. He spots Wonwoo at the end of the counter, a bottle of soju in hand. It’s not often that Seungcheol sees Wonwoo outside of work, and even then he’s normally dressed business casual. He’s treated to Wonwoo wearing a v-neck shirt and dark jeans that are as close to poured on as they can get. His dark hair is tousled like he came straight here after showering too. 

Wonwoo is attractive. It’s no secret. Seungcheol works with a lot of gorgeous men and women. But like this, Wonwoo is _hot_. The kind of guy Seungcheol would have spotted at a bar in university and would have charmed into a kiss, if not a night in his apartment. 

Wonwoo’s head whips up when he’s a few steps away. His cheeks are just a little pink. Lightweight? Seungcheol morphs his amusement into a smile he knows is dazzling. He has to press into Wonwoo’s space to make room at the bar, waves down the woman behind the counter for another drink. 

He turns toward Wonwoo and several things happen at once. First, Seungcheol’s eyes land on the black script peeking out from under his shirt, the letters looping just under his collarbones. Next is Wonwoo’s scent, which is a warm, pleasant thing at work, a comfort, a whisper. Here, free of masking, it’s so intense it knocks the air out of his lungs. Seungcheol has to take several breaths before he can look Wonwoo in the face. 

“I see Jeonghan got his hands on you already,” Wonwoo says, cat-like smile on his lips.

Seungcheol sips his whiskey and lets his eyes trail back down to the sliver of Wonwoo’s tattoo. What does it say? He wants to ask. He wants to tug Wonwoo’s shirt off and read it for himself. It’s not just the alcohol that has Seungcheol biting his lip and leaning in closer. He’s still a little wound up from earlier, and Wonwoo looks good, better than good. 

“Oh?” Seungcheol says. He sets his drink down on the counter and his fingers brush against Wonwoo’s on the wood. “Were you watching? Did you enjoy the show?”

Wonwoo’s fingers slide against his. His eyes darken, a wolf sighting prey, hungry. Seungcheol has never seen Wonwoo look quite so much like an Alpha as he does now. He wants to see more. 

“I saw a bit,” Wonwoo says. “Even if I didn’t, I can smell Jeonghan and his husband all over you.” He swallows and Seungcheol stares, transfixed. “You smell like an Omega, but you smell like you too.”

Seungcheol expects Wonwoo to be embarrassed, to put some kind of professional wall up between them. Instead his fingers take the place of Seungcheol’s glass until they’re laced together. Such a small, casual touch, but Seungcheol feels warm all over, warmer than when Joshua kissed him.

“Does that mean you approve? _Alpha_ ,” Seungcheol says. A question, a dare. Wonwoo’s other hand circles his hip and pulls him closer. There’s barely any space between them at all, charged air and little else. 

There’s a flash again. That hunger. Wonwoo looks like he wants to take Seungcheol apart, break him in the best way and piece him back together. 

It’s not unusual that Seungcheol and Wonwoo have never slept together. Wonwoo goes to Vernon when he’s really stressed, and Seungcheol has always had Jihoon. Jeonghan, later. The list is short. But Wonwoo is incredible like this, toeing the line, the mild mannered Alpha left behind in the office. Seungcheol wants to drop to his knees in the middle of the bar.

He leans into the pressure of Wonwoo’s hand on his hip. He’s close enough to count Wonwoo’s eyelashes, to see the silver barbell in his tongue when he opens his mouth to answer. 

“It’s good, but I like your scent much better.”

It’s almost impulsive how much Seungcheol wants to kiss him, to feel the cool press of metal against his own tongue. If the look in his eyes is anything to go by, Wonwoo wants the same thing. 

But this isn’t something discussed over desks and paperwork. If they kiss, what does it mean? Flirtation is one thing, casual but lingering touches, those can be dismissed. They’re both professionals, but the air between them is charged with something Seungcheol doesn’t have a name for. Desire, sure, but there’s something else. 

Seungcheol isn’t quite done pushing his luck. He smirks, untangles their hands and downs the rest of his drink. Wonwoo watches him with a dark kind of desire, like bloodlust. He leans in and Wonwoo’s hand tightens on his hip. There is no space between them, pressed together from chest to thigh. Seungcheol isn’t hard but he’s back on his way in no time at all. Everything narrows down to the space between their mouths, the pulsing bass of music around them muffled. The dim lights of the bar make everything less real, a liminal space.

“You’re so sexy,” Seungcheol says lowly, his face going hot as soon as his brain registers what he’s said. 

Wonwoo smirks. He leans down, his hand moving around to the small of Seungcheol’s back. They’re going to kiss. Seungcheol’s heart stutters.

“I can’t even name all the things I would do to you,” Wonwoo growls next to his ear. Seungcheol’s body lights up, a shiver starting at the hand on his back and working its way up to his shoulders. It’s amazing what Alpha pheromones can do, even to a Beta. Seungcheol wants to tell him _You can do anything, everything_. 

Instead he licks his lips, eyes fluttering.

“Show me, then,” Seungcheol whispers, wondering for a moment if Wonwoo will even hear, if he even needs to. 

Wonwoo shudders. He squeezes Seungcheol’s hand like a lifeline, like it’s the only grounding force left in the world. Yes or no. There’s no way for him to know what Wonwoo will do.

Just as Wonwoo’s lips hover over his, he catches something out of the corner of his eye. He turns toward it and the two of them put a more reasonable distance between their bodies. It’s Jihoon waving him down from across the room. He looks relaxed, at least, holding up a dark bottle of beer and grinning with all his teeth, way too pleased for just having found him in the bar. But when he turns back to Wonwoo it’s like the spell is broken. Wonwoo gives him a small, almost reserved smile. Like they’re back in the office.

“You should go,” he says, taking a swig from his bottle. “I’ve got errands to run in the morning anyway. I should probably head back home.”

He takes his hand off Seungcheol’s hip with a final squeeze. He can feel each fingertip against his skin, scalding, branded. 

Later, Seungcheol will have to take this whole night apart, dissect it and figure out what exactly he’s missing.

For now he doesn’t fight it. He reaches out and squeezes Wonwoo’s hand. There’s still the smallest bit of something in his eyes, residual like static electricity.

“I’ll see you around,” Seungcheol says.

Wonwoo nods, tilting his bottle of soju toward him almost in a toast. By the time Seungcheol makes it to Jihoon, Wonwoo is gone, like he’d never even been there at all. 

  
  
  


~☊~☊~☊~☊~

  
  
  


Taeyong is tense. More so than usual. He’s been pulling at his bangs for ten minutes, blonde that’s soaked up a bit of his purple shampoo, probably a little too delicate to be tugging on as hard as he is. 

Taeyong has been his client for a month. Wonwoo took one look at his file and accepted him right away. At their initial meeting, sitting side by side on a bench in the park, Taeyong had been almost shy about seeking help.

“I think I just need to get out of my head,” he’d said, glancing away from Wonwoo’s eyes and down to the grass under their feet. “But later, if you think something more intimate would help, I wouldn't be opposed to it. I don’t mind that you’re an Alpha.”

Alphas can be tricky clients sometimes. It’s not just getting comfortable in a stranger’s space for them. It’s more like walking a tightrope, finding the balance between what this kind of treatment demands and what unconscious, deep rooted instinct will allow. There’s nothing threatening in Taeyong’s scent, but Wonwoo approaches with the same kind of caution, waiting for Taeyong to meet his eyes. There was a strange kind of kinship there, almost like looking into the mirror at his past self. They agreed to weekly sessions and now Monday afternoons are for Taeyong.

“It’s just everything, you know?” Taeyong says, his voice strained in the quiet of the office. Wonwoo’s fingers are steepled in front of his mouth, elbows on his desk. Taeyong doesn’t usually take this long to tell him things. “I’ve got a huge deadline at the end of the month. My parents are still trying to set me up with a nice Omega, like I even have time to think about dating anyone right now.”

Wonwoo nods but keeps silent. He’s learned that Taeyong is more likely to open up if he doesn’t interrupt him, so he waits. Taeyong takes his hands out of his hair and ruffles it. The strands settle across his forehead a little more artfully. He looks into Wonwoo’s eyes and takes a breath, then another. Steeling himself.

“It’s not just stress though. My rut isn’t due for a week and I’m already having symptoms,” Taeyong says, so quietly Wonwoo barely catches it.

 _Ah_. That’s why he’s been so hesitant to say anything.

Taeyong isn’t seeing Wonwoo for hormone imbalance or issues with his cycles, but improperly managed stress can lead to them. As things stack up in Taeyong’s life, it’s Wonwoo’s job to help him cope, talk him through it, and prevent these sort of imbalances from happening. 

A small part of Wonwoo is wracked with guilt. If he’d paid closer attention at their last session he would have noticed something was wrong, could have prevented this, somehow. If his mind hadn’t been half on Taeyong and half on the feeling of Seungcheol’s hand linked with his own. Two weeks later and he’s still thinking about it, so close, _so close_. And yet, Seungcheol still didn’t get it.

The truth is that Wonwoo’s problems have no place in this room, so he comes around the desk and sits down next to Taeyong, taking one of his hands and stroking his thumb over the top.

They’ve done something like this before. The first time Taeyong asked, shyly, if he could put his fingers in Wonwoo’s mouth, it didn’t catch him nearly as off guard as it should have. Wonwoo had simply blinked, let the words sink in, and walked around his desk to sit next to Taeyong. _If that’s what will help you, I don’t mind_ , he’d said, heart starting to race. 

And so, when Taeyong glances between their joined hands and his eyes, Wonwoo knows something is coming before Taeyong even opens his mouth.

“Do you think you could, I mean, is there a way to take the edge off? Get things under control?”

Wonwoo feels the corner of his mouth tick up.

“I’m sure we can figure something out.”

 _People look at me and they think Omega_ , Taeyong had said during one of their first sessions. And Wonwoo knew without him even telling him, had known since their first informal meeting. It’s not like he could say _my parents were so shocked when I presented they took me to a specialist just to make sure_. It’s a strange kind of insecurity, something that’s hard to explain to someone who hasn’t been there. 

So Wonwoo had just nodded, told him without telling him. _You’re no less an Alpha than I am_. Taeyong’s eyes had gone wide with understanding, and he’d set his hand on top of Wonwoo’s on the desk and smiled, bright and dazzling and relieved. Wonwoo sort of knew after that. It was only a matter of time before he would end up here, knees on the carpet, unbuttoning Taeyong’s jeans while gentle hands slip his glasses off his face.

Wonwoo has a sheet of paper in Taeyong’s file where he writes the things Taeyong shows him but never says out loud. Insecurity. Need for control. Need to give up control. What does it mean to be an Alpha? It’s here, on his knees, that he can put those things into action. _You’re a real Alpha. Let me show you._

He grips Taeyong’s thighs and swallows his cock and the sound he makes jolts through Wonwoo’s body.

“ _Oh my God_ ,” Taeyong gasps. He hesitates, fingers tense in his hair like he wants to pull. Wonwoo looks up at him and gives the barest nod. 

_You can. You can. You’re allowed_.

Taeyong’s fingers tug at his hair and Wonwoo lets out a satisfied groan, running his tongue along the underside of Taeyong’s cock. It’s always a pleasant kind of surprise he gets from his tongue piercing. He wears a clear retainer at work but the ball on top is plastic, hard enough to feel. He ghosts it across Taeyong’s slit and is rewarded with another tug to his hair.

Arousal pours off Taeyong in dizzying waves, the scent of it going straight to Wonwoo’s groin. He’s been on edge since the bar. Taeyong isn’t really this kind of client but Wonwoo isn’t usually this kind of therapist either. Usually, it’s a three-person effort. The client, a therapist to plan the course of action and determine what’s working, and a surrogate to put the action into practice. Of course it’s much less cut and dry than that, but Wonwoo can count on one hand the number of clients he’s done this kind of thing with. 

It’s half because Taeyong needs it and half because Wonwoo needs it, too. 

He bobs his head, takes Taeyong to the back of his throat and drags his tongue over as much of his cock as he can reach. His thighs tense under Wonwoo’s hands and he bucks up, the office chair not offering much leverage. There’s something particularly arousing about it, Taeyong’s desperation, the control and lack of it all at the same time. Wonwoo comes up for air and stares up at Taeyong through his lashes. His hand is still fisted loosely in his hair. He tugs Taeyong down by his thighs until he’s half off the chair. 

“Better?” Wonwoo asks, voice already grating. He’s so hard it almost hurts. Control and lack of it. It’s dizzying. “Whatever you need, okay?”

It’s like an echo of Seungcheol, a dangerous line of thinking with Taeyong’s pheromones heavy in the air. 

Taeyong sucks in a breath and tightens his hand against Wonwoo’s hair again. He sinks back down slowly, takes time to tease him with a few shallow bobs of his head. Then Taeyong thrusts up into his mouth for real, hand like a vice holding him in place. 

Wonwoo moans, delicious heat swirling through his veins.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Taeyong pants as he builds up to a steady rhythm. Wonwoo breathes through his nose, quick pants when he remembers to breathe at all. Taeyong’s cock hits the back of his throat and deeper, and it’s easy for Wonwoo to lose himself to it, mind going hazy as pleasure ebbs through him. Taeyong’s moans and the taste of his precum are the only things grounding him to reality. 

Taeyong presses Wonwoo down until he’s as deep as he can get, holds him there until Wonwoo’s vision goes fuzzy at the edges, lungs just starting to burn from the need to breathe. He comes up with a filthy sound, gasping in air. Taeyong’s holding him up by his hair, and Wonwoo wants to call him Alpha, wants to watch his eyes go dark with it, wants to get used until he comes untouched.

Taeyong’s hand trails around to his cheek, thumbs across his slick bottom lip, and there it is, that darkness, that hunger. Panting breaths, and Wonwoo opens his mouth, lets Taeyong press a finger past his lips, then another, both of them groaning. Taeyong reaches down and strokes himself, presses his fingers down against Wonwoo’s tongue. His lashes flutter as his head falls back. 

“God, you’re good,” Taeyong says, meeting his eyes and letting his fingers slip out of his mouth. “Can I kiss you?”

It’s electric. Wonwoo nods so fast he almost pulls a muscle, arches up and meets Taeyong’s lips as he’s leaning down. It’s warm and messy, Taeyong’s tongue tracing his, curling around the barbell in his mouth with a moan. He’s still stroking himself between them, pace heading toward frantic. Wonwoo allows himself to reach up, fingers tangling in Taeyong’s hair as he breaks the kiss to adjust the angle, lips sliding together like puzzle pieces. 

Wonwoo’s cock is throbbing when they break apart. Taeyong’s eyes are glazed, warm and dark. He bites his lip, eyes dropping to Wonwoo’s mouth hungrily.

“I’m close,” he pants, and Wonwoo doesn’t waste time. 

He replaces Taeyong’s hand with his tongue first, licking broad stripes and then swallowing him down. Taeyong groans, hips thrusting desperately. He manages to keep a steady rhythm for a bit, until the pleasant fullness in Wonwoo’s mouth becomes this side of too much, Taeyong’s knot starting to swell. 

Wonwoo uses his hand when it becomes too much, tongue teasing the head of his cock as he strokes him faster. Taeyong gasps, a desperate sound slipping past his lips. He bucks into Wonwoo’s hand and he presses the ball of his tongue piercing just below the head. He looks up at Taeyong through his lashes and that’s all it takes. 

Taeyong’s hips stutter as he comes, spilling into his mouth with a moan. Wonwoo keeps the tip in his mouth and works his hand over Taeyong’s knot, breath shuddering out of his nose as his own arousal lights him up. He lets Taeyong slip out of his mouth just as his office door opens. 

Taeyong’s eyes are huge when he glances at the door. Wonwoo rushes to stand, more concerned with Taeyong’s privacy than with the way he probably looks, hair mussed, slacks tented, come still in his mouth. 

It’s Seungcheol. A folder in his hand. He looks at Wonwoo like a deer in headlights, shock all over his face, but he doesn’t leave. Wonwoo waits until he hears the zipper on Taeyong’s jeans before walking to the side of his desk. Wonwoo picks up the tiny trash can there, holds it near his mouth and spits Taeyong’s come out, covering the sight of it from Seungcheol with a hand. 

When he sets the trash can back down Seungcheol’s expression has morphed into something unreadable. There's something in the air, a hint of his scent, clean and warm. Taeyong is still in the room. He refuses to think about it. 

“Did you need something?” Wonwoo asks, face burning at how raw his voice sounds, gritty and wrecked. Even if Seungcheol hadn’t walked in on him it would be very hard to hide exactly what he’d been doing.

Seungcheol takes a few more steps into the office, and Taeyong sneaks out with a slightly embarrassed but grateful smile, mouthing _See you next week_ before slipping the door shut behind him. At least it seems to have helped. He’ll have to call him later to apologize and to see if his symptoms seem more manageable.

“You’re supposed to use a condom,” Seungcheol says instead of answering his question, tone half way to accusatory. 

“It’s not like I do this a lot,” Wonwoo says, prickling. “I’ll put some in my desk in case it happens again. I’ve seen my client’s medical records. He’s clean.”

Wonwoo leans his weight against the side of his desk. Seungcheol walks closer and tosses the folder down on his desk. Wonwoo watches him let go of the tension in his body in stages, two deep breaths, shoulders relaxing, until he’s finally sort of back to normal. He can’t stop thinking about the almost imperceptible spike in his scent. 

“That’s not the point. We have policies for a reason,” Seungcheol says, exasperated. He looks Wonwoo up and down. “I thought you didn’t do this with your clients.”

There’s something under the statement. A question carefully concealed. _Are you allowed to do this?_ That’s what he’s really asking. If Wonwoo were a different man, a different Alpha, it would be a slap to the face.

He still bristles in spite of his efforts to keep his feelings under control, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Just because I don’t usually engage in the sexual aspects of therapy doesn’t mean I’m not licensed to do so,” he says, clipped. 

Seungcheol holds his hands out between their bodies. Peacemaker, but it’s more than being a Beta. It’s who Seungcheol is at his core.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Seungcheol says quickly. He sighs. “I just…”

He trails off and the silence eats at Wonwoo’s stomach like he’s swallowed acid. The clock on the wall ticks, seconds turning into a full minute.

“Just what?” Wonwoo finally asks, tone not unlike the one he uses on his clients. He relaxes his body, uncrosses his arms. The irritation is replaced by concern embarrassingly fast. 

_You always lose your head with him_ , Jeonghan had said.

He’s never said it’s not true.

Seungcheol’s hands are back down at his sides. He’s rubbing his thumbnail with his index finger, a tell. He’s nervous. Another spike of worry stabs through his heart.

Seungcheol takes a breath. “I just, well, I never really thought about how you’d, uh —” he grins and runs a hand through the back of his hair. “I never thought I’d see you looking like this in your own office.”

There it is again. That tiny, imperceptible spike of Seungcheol’s scent. The anxiety is almost immediately replaced by want, slow and thick like honey in his veins. Wonwoo wants to back Seungcheol against the door and go right back to his knees, wants to show Seungcheol what he’d be willing to do for him, what he’s wanted to do since the bar. Anything, really. Wonwoo’s never been picky.

Wonwoo licks along his bottom lip, watches Seungcheol to see if he follows the movement of his tongue. He can’t tell. It’s always like that with him, but he’s already made the decision to toe the line.

“Oh?” Wonwoo says, mouth a wolfish grin. “Is there a place you imagined me on my knees?”

Something flashes in Seungcheol’s eyes, another spike in his scent, a little stronger this time, maybe even deliberate. Wonwoo keeps getting his hopes up. He should stop. It’s no good flying too close to the sun.

“I —” Seungcheol starts. His eyes drift down each button on Wonwoo’s shirt, to his shoes, over to his desk. “Oh, right. I came in here to have you look over a new profile. I think he’s a good candidate for Yixing, but I wanted your input before I brought him in for a meeting.”

The warmth leaves Wonwoo’s veins like waking up from a dream. Office banter or posturing. Wonwoo always worries about toeing the line. It feels like he’s done something wrong, that hot and cold feeling from his childhood at the sight of his mother’s tight frown.

He moves back behind his desk, and pulls the envelope closer. He slips his glasses back on as he settles in his chair. He looks over to Seungcheol, up at him from this angle, and nods.

“I’ll let you know by the end of the day,” he says.

Seungcheol nods in return, turning on his heel to head back to his own office.

“Seungcheol.” He stops. Wonwoo bites his lip and forces himself to continue. “I’m sorry. That you had to walk in to that. It won’t happen again.”

Seungcheol turns to face him, hand on the doorknob. There’s a look that Wonwoo can’t quite place on his face. A little like the face Seungcheol wears during new client interviews, a genuine kind of caring that makes Wonwoo feel too many things.

“You haven’t done anything to apologize for, Wonwoo,” he says, eyes roaming his body head to toe one more time before he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

The thing about being an Alpha is that even with all of the knowledge Wonwoo has, it’s always a fight against base instinct. The number of pen caps Wonwoo has chewed through just to channel his feelings without hitting something. The times Wonwoo has had to sit in his office in the middle of winter with all his windows open, airing out the scent of a client or a coworker so the other Alphas, him included, don’t lose their minds. 

The thing about Wonwoo’s job is that no matter how good he is at helping his clients, there are some bits of advice he can’t, or won’t, take. His ruts are regular, he exercises at least twice a week. He listens to his body, decompresses when he’s under pressure, touches when he’s lonely. 

Seungcheol is available in every sense of the word yet so out of reach. It takes Wonwoo five minutes of counting his breaths before he can even open the file. Seungcheol’s scent lingers in his office like an accusation.

He doesn’t open the window. He figures he deserves the punishment.

  
  
  
  


~☊~☊~☊~☊~

  
  


By Friday morning Seungcheol finds Wonwoo in Yixing’s office, head in his lap, face buried in his stomach. Wonwoo’s not the kind of Alpha that balks at this kind of closeness, so it’s not unusual, except that it is. He pauses near the doorway and quirks an eyebrow at Yixing, who simply gives him a gentle smile and holds a finger to his lips, shaking his head.

Wonwoo is asleep in Yixing’s lap. Have things really been that stressful for him? Seungcheol tries to remember the last time they sat down and really talked. He’s coming up empty. Since before they all went out to the bar. Maybe since Jihoon has been seeing Mingyu.

As one of the Betas in the office, it’s Seungcheol’s job to make sure his coworkers are happy and healthy. There are other Betas, and it’s possible Wonwoo has been speaking with Vernon more, or maybe Sunmi. He gets the feeling that’s not the case. It feels a little bit like failure, like he’s let Wonwoo down. 

He goes back to his own office and shuts the door, pressing his fingers into his temples. Every time he walks by Wonwoo’s office he thinks about it, Wonwoo on his knees, Wonwoo’s voice, low and gritty from having a dick in his throat. _An Alpha’s dick_ , Seungcheol’s mind is quick to remind him. 

Wonwoo is really attractive. Seungcheol has known this since the first day they met, years ago at the hospital they both worked for. Wonwoo carried a briefcase back then, dark brown leather, new and shiny, just like him. They fell into an easy friendship after that, so much so that when the decision to start their own company was made, Seungcheol didn’t think twice about asking Wonwoo to join them.

He’s thought about it before. Of course he has, but Wonwoo’s warm hands on him at the bar, Wonwoo’s face flushed with arousal, mouth full of come. Now it’s the _only thing_ Seungcheol can think about.

It would be a lie to say that seeing Wonwoo with an Alpha didn’t jab at a very old, deeply ingrained insecurity. Alpha and Omega. Betas are secondary, needed for balance, but not wanted. Never desired the same way. Even in such a sex positive industry, Seungcheol can’t help but wonder if he’s really needed at all. How can a Beta help an Omega? An Alpha? How can he really compete in a race he’s not even made for?

It’s easier to silence now that he’s older, and he does. The people in his life, friends and coworkers and lovers and clients, prove to him over and over that it’s not true. Wonwoo being comfortable enough to fuck around with Alphas just proves that he’s more flexible. And really, it’s only a problem in the sense that Seungcheol can’t stop thinking about him.

The rest of the day is pretty uneventful. Seungcheol has a session with Mingyu, he looks through a batch of potential clients, he drinks a cup of coffee in the almost empty breakroom, his mind half on the Alpha he’s passing along to Yixing later (the only person suited to the task, really) and half on the conversation he’s having with Vernon, who’s giving him this weirdly smug look.

“You really _just now_ realized that Wonwoo is hot?” Vernon deadpans, the grin spreading across his face before Seungcheol can take him too seriously. He sighs anyway.

“No, I mean, I’ve always _known_. I just hadn’t thought about it that much.”

Vernon shakes his head, still smiling. Way too pleased. Seungcheol feels like he’s the butt of an inside joke. 

“What’s so funny?” Seungcheol pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. His coffee steams on the table between them, pitch black. 

“Nothing at all, man,” Vernon says, grin dying down to something more casual. “It’s amazing how we can be so knowledgeable and so dense at the same time. That’s all.”

He gets up and walks back toward his office without giving Seungcheol a chance to reply. 

Seungcheol is left with his coffee and his thoughts. He puts his head on the table, forehead pressed to the cool surface. It feels like he’s been off-kilter all week, struggling to focus but unable to get his mind off of the snarling mass of thoughts in his brain. 

Wonwoo. His friend, his colleague. An Alpha who has no qualms getting on his knees for another Alpha. Smart and incredibly kind. An intriguing kind of mystery to him. Seungcheol has been to his apartment maybe once in the entire time they’ve known each other. He can’t even remember what color the walls are, but the detail seems important suddenly. Everything about Wonwoo seems important. But _why_?

A hand on his head, fingers slipping through his hair. He lets his eyes fall closed for just a moment. 

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asks, dropping into the chair beside him. “Have you eaten anything today?”

Seungcheol isn’t supposed to be able to smell him, especially not at work. He can pick up on Wonwoo’s scent ever since the bar, the warmth of it as comforting as the hand in his hair. Wonwoo’s always been like this, dropping by his office with coffee, making sure he eats, small acts of kindness.

It hits Seungcheol like a wave crashing against the shore. Sudden and overwhelming, stealing the air from his lungs. He sits up so suddenly Wonwoo’s hand falls against the table with an audible sound.

Wonwoo’s eyes widen in surprise. Seungcheol stares at him as the world around them fades away. He thinks about how much he wanted to kiss Wonwoo that night. How he hasn’t stopped thinking about how much he wants to, even now. 

How Wonwoo’s been strangely distant since he’s started seeing more of Jihoon. Did he wish it were him instead? How long has he wanted it to be him? Has he really been so blind to what’s right in front of him?

 _Oh my god_ , he thinks. _Oh my god_.

Seungcheol sets his hand on top of Wonwoo’s on the breakroom table and it’s like everything falls into place. Lock and key. 

“Oh my god,” Seungcheol whispers, his eyes still locked with Wonwoo’s. “I think I have feelings for you. More than just friendship feelings.”

Wonwoo breathes out, shoulders sagging like a weight’s been lifted, his hair falling into his eyes. Like Seungcheol’s confession is freeing, somehow.

When he looks up again he’s smiling, something soft and fond, something he’s been saving up, Seungcheol is sure.

“You have no idea how much I wanted you to say that.” Wonwoo’s cheeks are dusted pink, the tips of his ears bright with blood. “I’ve had those feelings for you for a while, now.”

Something like butterflies swirls around in his chest. His heart beats faster. How long has it been since he’s felt like this?

“I’ve just been so focused on work,” Seungcheol says numbly, staring at their hands. “I haven’t thought about anything else in a long time.”

“I know,” Wonwoo snorts and Seungcheol looks up at him, mouth drawn down in a pout. “You’re always thinking about everyone else. It drives me crazy sometimes, watching you.” Wonwoo slips his hand out and places it on top of, squeezing. “You’re allowed to think about yourself, too. You can ask for things. You can want things.” Wonwoo meets his eyes again. “You can have things.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one telling you that?” Seungcheol laughs. There’s still something fragile in the air, like blown glass. “How long have you felt like this and not said anything?”

It’s Wonwoo’s turn to pout, turning his head with a sigh. Seungcheol can’t help but laugh. 

“You don’t have to tell me now,” he says, “but I hope you will. When you’re ready.”

Wonwoo looks at him for a long time, so many emotions swirling that Seungcheol can only guess at. He wonders if now he’ll be allowed in. He leans forward and for a moment Seungcheol is sure he’s going to kiss him, that their first kiss will happen right here in the break room, Jeonghan’s distant laughter the back track.

Instead he gives Seungcheol a look that’s hungry but controlled, like Wonwoo is fighting some kind of internal battle.

“You can absolutely say no,” Wonwoo starts. The speed at which Seungcheol thinks, _never_ , should be alarming. He doesn’t pay it any attention. “Just because we’re attracted to each other doesn’t mean you owe me anything.” He takes a steadying breath. “But what do you think about spending my next rut with me? It’s a few weeks out.”

Oh, Seungcheol thinks. _Oh_.

He doesn’t even have to think about the answer.

“I’d like that,” he says. He leans forward too, grinning before he kisses Wonwoo’s cheek, quick and chaste. 

Wonwoo’s hand flies to his cheek as Seungcheol moves back and downs the rest of his coffee before heading to the pot to pour a fresh cup. He steals a glance at Wonwoo before he heads back to his office, drinks in the sight of his flushed face and wide eyes, the way he won’t take his hand off his cheek, like Seungcheol’s kiss will disappear if he lets go.

Vines curl around his heart, comforting pressure.


	2. Chapter 2

Wonwoo spends the weekend alternating between elation and despair. Happier than he’s been in months yet so anxious he hardly sleeps. Seungcheol has _feelings_ for him, and the first thing he does it open his mouth and beg to fuck him.

At the worst moments that’s how it feels. Sometimes, being an Alpha is like staring down a caged beast. Wonwoo has always done his best to tame it, spent years patiently cultivating control against instinct, but it’s like everything vanished the second Seungcheol said those words to him. 

Does Seungcheol really want him the same way? Or is he trying to take care of him, approaching the whole thing from a professional standpoint?

By the time Monday afternoon hits, his appointments finished, Wonwoo has spent more time worrying about the situation than he has anything else. He’s barely seen Seungheol all day. It’s too easy to believe he’s avoiding him on purpose.

He’s about to go find Jihoon when there’s a light knock on his door. Seungcheol, because who else would it be, sticks his head in. 

“Let’s get dinner,” Seungcheol says. He’s smiling at first, but Wonwoo doesn’t wipe the stress off his face fast enough and it dims quickly. Seungcheol walks further into his office.

“Rough day?” he asks, eyebrows pulled down as he looks Wonwoo over. 

Wonwoo, licensed therapist and mature adult, hides his face in his arms, blocking everything out around him. The darkness is easier, comforting. He hears Seungcheol come closer. 

“Come on,” Seungcheol says, tugging at Wonwoo’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, childish refusal to face anything, but Seungcheol keeps tugging at him until he finally looks up. From there he’s pulled physically out of his chair and into the hall, right next door into Seungcheol’s office. He’s had dreams about this, of Seungcheol being so worked up he can’t take it, pulling him into his office and kissing him breathless against the door. He kind of wishes it would go like that.

Seungcheol has a couch in his office, muted beige, unassuming. He sits down and pulls Wonwoo down next to him. Their legs are touching. It’s all he can focus on, the line of warmth between them.

“Talk to me,” Seungcheol says, angling to face him more directly. Like this, Seungcheol’s knee rests on top of Wonwoo’s thigh. He shifts a little so they’re facing each other. “If we’re really doing this, I need you to talk to me.”

Seungcheol’s body is warm where they touch. It’s comforting, familiar, grounding even though Wonwoo can easily count the number of times they’ve purposefully touched each other.

“Something’s bothering you. You look like you’ve barely slept,” Seungcheol continues. Wonwoo sighs. 

“It’s going to sound ridiculous out loud,” Wonwoo says, and he means it. The thing about his job is that Wonwoo is aware of his own feelings, can dissect them clinically whenever he wants. It doesn’t make those feelings any less real. He wants to bury his face in his hands. He considers just walking out, feigning a late meeting and putting this off for a bit longer. It’s the thought of Seungcheol being left in the same state he is, uncertain and worried, that makes him resign to tell him. Wonwoo would rather eat glass than make Seungcheol feel like this.

Seungcheol waits for him with the same kind of easy patience Jeonghan always gets after they have sex. He wonders absently which one picked it up from the other.

“Why did you say yes?” Wonwoo asks finally, as softly as he can manage.

Seungcheol doesn't laugh even though Wonwoo thinks he probably should. It’s the worry of a teen experiencing their first real relationship, not what a rational, level headed adult should be concerned with at all. He reaches out and takes Wonwoo’s hand, resting them on his knee.

“Because I _like_ you,” Seungcheol says, squeezing their hands for emphasis. “Because I want to do this just as much as you. You could have asked anyone else if it was just about getting off, but you've never asked me for that before. I don’t think you’d just start now.”

Wonwoo feels incredibly silly suddenly. Seungcheol is smart, observant in the way people who assess people for a living usually are. He would have taken all of this into account before he answered.

“I just,” Wonwoo sighs, looking down at their hands. “I don’t want this to be an obligation. I didn’t mean to spring it on you so suddenly.” He steels himself and meets Seungcheol’s eyes. “I want to do this with you because it’s you. Not as coworkers, just as us. You can still change your mind if you think it’s too soon.”

Seungcheol leans forward and kisses his cheek, lightning fast. Wonwoo feels tingly all over, skin buzzing from the single point of contact. Seungcheol’s lips are so lush it makes it hard to think. 

“I hardly think this is moving too fast. I spent the whole weekend realizing I’ve liked you for a long time. It must have been so obvious to everyone.” Seungcheol grins, glancing up to Wonwoo’s eyes. “And if it’s been that long for both of us, then I think this is actually very overdue.”

 _You have no idea,_ Wonwoo thinks, fighting the urge to touch his cheek. 

He breathes out, lets the worry leave him in stages. Seungcheol relaxes too, and after a while he feels almost normal. Seungcheol’s knee is warm against him. His hands too. And people think Alphas are the ones that run hot.

Wonwoo stands up and pulls Seungcheol with him.

“I guess you’re right,” he says, lips curving up, “We are overdue.”

Wonwoo wants to kiss Seungcheol so badly he can taste it, but he’s pretty sure Seungcheol is saving it. He can wait. He’s already waited this long. He squeezes their linked fingers.

“If you’re paying, I'll take you up on dinner.”

Seungcheol lets out a long suffering sigh, but he can’t seem to stop smiling. 

“If that’s what it takes to get you out of here.”

  
  
  


~☊~☊~☊~☊~

  
  


Shuri looks up at Seungcheol from between his legs, her eyes inquisitive, nose twitching as she sniffs. He shakes the vegetables around in the pan and considers rubbing her side with his foot but thinks better of it. He doesn’t want to scare her off, not when they’ve made such good progress. Jihoon’s apartment is like a second home, the years of their friendship like a layer of dust over the whole place. The pans are in the same spot they’ve been since Seungcheol unpacked them, time exchanged for soju and fried chicken. Jihoon, too, is in the same spot, propped against the kitchen counter, an amused smirk on his face while he watches. Between the two of them, Seungcheol is the better cook, or at least that’s what he tells himself as he tosses noodles into the mix. The scorched bits add flavor. 

“This is why I said we should get takeout,” Jihoon says. Seungcheol shakes his head.

“And let all this go bad? It would break my mother’s heart.”

Shuri rubs her body against his leg as she walks away. Behind him, Jihoon sighs. 

“We can talk about it, you know.” Seungcheol hears the soft sound of feet on tile until there’s a hand pressed against his shoulder blade. “It’s soon, right?”

“A few days, maybe the end of the week,” Seungcheol answers softly. He adds sauce to the mixture in the pan, turning down the heat as it sizzles.

Jihoon snorts. “If it’s that soon you should have told me. You're going to get him all riled up if you smell like me.”

Seungcheol grins, sly. “Even in rut, I think he’s smart enough to know when we fool around and when we’re just around each other.”

“I know he is,” Jihoon answers, taking his hand off Seungcheol’s shoulder. “You should wash your clothes anyway. I actually _like_ Wonwoo. The only reason we’re anywhere near friends is because he knows how you are.”

“Whatever that means,” Seungcheol mutters. 

They haven’t slept together for two weeks. Jihoon hasn’t told him why, but Seungcheol knows enough to guess. It’s not something that Seungcheol can help with. All he can do is what he’s doing right now, the only thing that’s been constant in his life since university.

They fall into a comfortable silence as Seungcheol finishes cooking. They split it evenly, though Seungcheol gives Jihoon’s portion a little more sauce. He sneaks a bite before they sit down. Not bad. Edible, maybe even a little tastier than that. Jihoon picks up a piece of zucchini with his chopsticks and pops it in his mouth. He doesn’t even make a face. Seungcheol considers it a victory. 

“I never thought it would take you this long to figure out,” Jihoon says, stirring his noodles around aimlessly. “I mean, I know how you treat the people you care about. It doesn’t surprise me that you didn’t realize your own feelings, but Wonwoo has been obviously crazy about you for ages.”

“There’s no way it’s been _ages_.” Seungcheol pouts. “Just because it’s obvious to you doesn’t mean you get to lecture me.”

Wonwoo had said _a long time_ , but Seungcheol can’t imagine it’s been that long. Months maybe, but longer than that? Has it really been ages?

Jihoon grins. “I’m not lecturing you. You’ve always put work above your feelings, we both know that. I’m just pointing out that Wonwoo has been courting you for a long time, and I hope that you understand how our relationship might look from the outside. I’m pretty sure there’s a betting pool at the office for when we announce that we’ve actually been married this whole time.”

Seungcheol’s chopsticks freeze half way to his mouth, the noodles slipping back into the bowl as his grip goes slack.

Courting. 

His brain freezes on the word and the rest of what Jihoon says passes through his mind half registered.

“Courting.” Seungcheol says. “Wonwoo has been courting. _Me_. He’s hardly the type of Alpha who would court someone.”

Jihoon smirks, the way he always does when he’s got Seungcheol exactly where he wants him. He thinks about it, every small interaction, how Wonwoo has always taken care of him a little more than anyone else. Subtle, gentle ways, whispers of implications where Seungcheol would expect an Alpha to be gaudier, more boastful. He could ask anyone in the office, and they would probably say something like _Wonwoo is great to work with, but he’s nicer to you than he is to anyone else._

 _Courting_. Maybe not in the way Seungcheol expects, but Jihoon is right. 

Seungcheol sighs, meeting Jihoon’s eyes across the table. It feels like his heart is being tugged out of his chest by a fishing hook, like he has no choice but to follow the pull or lose a piece of himself in the struggle. 

“Wonwoo wouldn’t do those things for you if he didn’t think you liked it,” Jihoon answers, balancing his chopsticks on top of his empty bowl.

Seungcheol chews through another bite of noodles. It’s a fond kind of defeat. Willful surrender. The longer he thinks about it, the more he realizes —

“It’s kind of romantic, don’t you think?”

Jihoon laughs so hard he doubles over. Shuri jolts from the spot on the couch she’s curled up in, narrowing her eyes at Jihoon, ears pinned back in annoyance. 

Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair and rolls his eyes. Jihoon will never let him live this down.

  
  
  


~☊~☊~☊~☊~

  
  
  


Wonwoo wakes up Friday morning hugging his pillow, the corner clamped so hard between his teeth they ache, pants sticky with precum. His skin is burning, fever hot under the blanket. 

Seungcheol has two meetings. Two new client interviews. Then he’s heading straight to over, letting himself in with the spare key Wonwoo discreetly slipped into his hand Wednesday morning. It was deliciously thrilling, much more office romance than the work obligation he feared it would be. Arousal pools molten inside of him. He buries his face in the pillow and breathes, breath hitching as the shifting blankets rub against his aching cock. He can wait, and so he will. 

He blinks his eyes open enough to check the time on his phone. Seungcheol is probably in the middle of his first meeting now, the Alpha that’s only going to get better with Yixing’s patient coaxing. The name escapes him, but he remembers with stark clarity the 5cm difference in their height, how the size of his hands had made Wonwoo’s mouth dry. 

He wonders how many of those fingers he could fit in his mouth and hisses, throbbing painfully in his pants. Rut is always like this, half formed thoughts, craving touch and taste and scent, always hungry and never quite satisfied until someone has been knotted. The bottle of lube on the bed tempts him, but he ignores it for now. There's a reason it’s there, and it’s not for him to jerk off with. 

Wonwoo manages to take a shower and brush his teeth, slipping into clean pajamas before collapsing back in bed. His skin feels too tight, too hot, close to unbearable. He drifts, somewhere between rut haze and sleep. In his dream, Seungcheol is curled up on the couch in one of Wonwoo’s old university hoodies, sipping coffee, hair fluffy from sleep. Seungcheol looks at him and asks him what he wants for breakfast. It’s certainly not his usual rut fantasies, but Seungcheol has always been his exception, the way he’s wanted Seungcheol always more than sexual, comfortable and warm and good.

He wakes up the second time to the soft padding of feet, Seungcheol’s scent piercing through the haze in his brain. The rational part of him recognizes Seungcheol took the time to go back home and shower off his scent dampener, and he appreciates it, really, but his pajamas are sticky again and his cock aches and all he wants is Seungcheol.

 _Seungcheol_.

When he cracks his eyes open Seungcheol is propped in the doorway. He’s dressed in a black v neck shirt and tight, dark washed jeans. The flowers on his arm seem darker, somehow, fresh ink. It’s really more that Wonwoo is hyper-aware, can practically see the blood pumping through Seungcheol’s veins. He’s looking down at him, a smile dimpling his cheek. Wonwoo wants and wants and _wants_.

“ _Seungcheol_ ,” he says, voice cracking. There’s no reason to hide it, not after they’ve made it this far. 

Seungcheol walks further into the room, pulls his shirt over his head and lets it drop to the floor. Like this, the floral sleeve is even more stark. Wonwoo wants to trace each line with his tongue. (There are other things, darker, hungrier things, but he clamps them down). Next are his jeans, peeled slowly down his legs, left on the floor next to his shirt. He hasn’t said a word and Wonwoo feels almost light-headed with anticipation. Seungcheol is left in dark briefs and a lazy, confident smile. He walks until he makes contact with the bed, and stops.

There aren’t any marks on his skin. It’s the first thing Wonwoo’s hazy brain zeroes in on. No finger shaped bruises, no teeth marks, a blank canvas. Wonwoo was sort of expecting he’d have some. It’s not like anything has changed at work. The two of them are still seeing clients and will continue to do so even after this. He wonders if Seungcheol was careful on purpose these last few weeks, if he wanted this to be special, somehow. Just them, the first time.

Wonwoo reaches out and pulls Seungcheol onto the bed. He follows easily, drapes himself on top of Wonwoo because it’s where Wonwoo wants him, thighs bracketing hips and hands just touching his shoulders. Wonwoo’s cock pulses in the space between them.

“Hey,” Seungcheol breathes, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He’s almost infuriatingly beautiful. Wonwoo’s face burns. “Your hair’s wet. Did I miss anything?”

“Just a shower.” Wonwoo huffs. “I said I’d wait for you. I haven’t even touched myself, thank you very much.”

Seungcheol rests his palm on Wonwoo’s chest, and he can’t keep from arching into it, more more more. He slides his hand up, curling it around the back of Wonwoo’s neck. His eyes are dark, an echo of Wonwoo’s hunger. 

“Good boy, so you want your reward?” Seungcheol teases. 

Most Alphas would be hard pressed to admit it, but there isn’t much difference between rut and heat. It’s the same kind of hormones, the same kind of needs, just manifested differently by the body. So even though Wonwoo isn’t usually one for praise, rut means Seungcheol can push any button and light him up. Wonwoo rolls his eyes and reaches up, pulls Seungcheol closer and loops his arms around his neck. 

“I just want you,” he says. It’s half need and half years worth of feelings locked away, finally free. If his brain weren’t otherwise occupied he’d be mortified. Seungcheol hums, stares down at him like he really understands, before leaning down and kissing him. 

Seungcheol is _kissing him_. The press of his body gives Wonwoo something to focus on, everything narrowing down to the places they touch. It’s so good, just an easy press of lips, but Wonwoo knows he could do this forever, could spend his entire rut kissing him. His hands tighten in Seungcheol’s hair and Seungcheol grins against his lips, parting them just enough for Wonwoo’s tongue to slip inside. The sound that Seungcheol makes has Wonwoo wrapping a leg around his waist, pulling their bodies even tighter together. He can feel the outline of Seungcheol’s cock and somewhere between that and Seungcheol’s tongue curling around the barbell in his mouth he gives himself over to the need flooding his veins.

Most of the time, rut is just about satisfying a biological need. It’s about getting off and getting it over with, a single-minded goal. Wonwoo flips their positions easily, grinds down against Seungcheol, and he’s ready to draw this out as long as he can, to make sure they both come out satisfied on the other side. 

Seungcheol’s hips find an easy rhythm with his, moving in time with his tongue, lazy and curious, feeling each other out. Of course Seungcheol would be good at this, sex is part of their careers after all, but feeling their bodies move together has Wonwoo making a low sound, chest vibrating with it. Seungcheol moans, an echo, and Wonwoo breaks the kiss to bury his face in his neck. He breathes, and his scent is calming, grounding, everything that Wonwoo needs. 

Seungcheol reaches up to run fingers through his hair. Wonwoo hums but his hips jerk, seeking. Seungcheol chuckles under his breath.

“We can take it slow later,” Seungcheol says, “It’s not like this is the last time. Let me take care of you.”

Wonwoo nips Seungcheol’s neck, relishing in the moan he lets out. Wonwoo wants to say _that’s my line_ , but he thinks he can show it better. 

“Fine,” Wonwoo mumbles against his skin. He places one more kiss against his neck before sitting up.

Getting out of his pajama pants is almost painful. Wonwoo is aching, hard and heavy, the tip of his cock flushed when it’s free. Seungcheol’s eyes are weighted as he takes him in. The attention makes him want to show off, just a little. Instead Wonwoo tosses his clothes to the floor and settles in the space Seungcheol has made for him between his thighs. Wonwoo slides Seungcheol’s underwear down, and he doesn’t hide the hunger he feels when his cock springs free. He tosses them away, eyes raking down Seungcheol’s body. Every part of him makes Wonwoo feel deranged, from the way his hair curls behind his ear to the way his thighs tense under Wonwoo’s hands. 

The air is charged. Wonwoo wants Seungcheol in every way, everywhere, all at once. All consuming.

“I wanna suck you off,” Wonwoo says, breathless with how much he wants. Seungcheol grins up at him. He’s propped up on his elbows, all easy approval, the only thing giving him away his own desire is his cock twitching between them. 

“I want that, too,” Seungcheol says. His eyes drift down to Wonwoo’s mouth and he licks his lips. Wonwoo feels like he’s been punched. Seungcheol wanting him feels almost like going through rut the first time, somehow familiar but strange, too. Unexpected when it finally hits. 

Wonwoo moves the lube within reach before leaning down to tease the head of Seungcheol’s cock with his tongue, pressing the ball of his piercing against the underside. 

“ _God_ ,” Seungcheol groans, curling his fingers in the sheets, “I’ve never been with someone with a tongue ring before.”

Wonwoo can’t help but grin up at him, feline. 

“I haven’t either.” 

Seungcheol huffs, opens his mouth to say something but Wonwoo licks a broad stripe from base to tip and Seungcheol’s mouth snaps shut.

Wonwoo shivers, looking up through his lashes at Seungcheol. He’s half tempted to ignore how much of a bad idea it is and tell Seungcheol to fuck his face. He wants it so bad it’s almost enough to win out over the buzzing mix of hormones coursing through him. He always feels a little more aggressive during rut, a little more stubborn.

It must show on his face. Seungcheol reaches out and thumbs his cheek, eyes going dark when Wonwoo leans into the touch. His thumb traces the corner of his mouth and Wonwoo shivers again. 

Seungcheol moves his hand to the back of Wonwoo’s head, barely any pressure at all. It really does the trick.

“Is this okay?” He asks. Wonwoo nods, quick and overeager, and swallows as much of Seungcheol’s cock as he can at once. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Seungcheol gasps. He tightens his hand in Wonwoo’s hair. He shudders even as a low growl vibrates his chest. Wonwoo works his tongue along the underside, pressing the ball of his piercing along every sensitive place he can reach. Seungcheol makes a lot of noise. Wonwoo can’t get enough of every gasp, every soft, bitten off whine. He presses on, sinking down until mouth meets skin. When he looks up Seungcheol’s chest is flushed, his breaths coming in small pants. 

“You’re so sexy,” Seungcheol grits out, “So good like this.” 

And this time it strokes his Alpha ego just right. His cock jolts at the praise, and Wonwoo bobs his head in a steady, breathless rhythm. 

Focus. Focus, Wonwoo reminds himself when he eases off Seungcheol’s cock. He sinks his teeth into Seungcheol’s thigh, shuddering at Seungcheol’s moan. He leaves a matching mark on the other side, worrying the skin until there’s a visible mark. He fumbles for the lube and slicks up his fingers, reaches down until he’s pressed against his rim.

Wonwoo presses a finger inside and Seungcheol accepts it easily, too easily.

“Did you —,” He starts, rolling his eyes when Seungcheol grins.

“Of course I did,” he says, “I keep telling you that we can take it slow later. Let me give you what you need.”

Wonwoo is pretty sure Seungcheol is proposing to him somewhere in there from the way his heart seizes up. He wants, has wanted for such a long time he’s almost forgotten what it feels like to have. 

He slips two fingers inside and leans forward to kiss him. Wonwoo curls them, insistent, grins against Seungcheol’s lips when he moans into his mouth. He adds a third finger and is relentless, gliding over that spot inside him until Seungcheol breaks the kiss with a gasp.

Wonwoo wants to knot him until the world ends, wants him coming again and again, wants to be his, _Alpha_. It's just rut, but Wonwoo lets himself think it in this moment, as he slips his fingers out and tears open a condom. 

Seungcheol catches his hand before he can unwrap it.

“I want to touch you,” Seungcheol says, insistent. 

Wonwoo’s cock throbs, and really, it’s what he wants too. Seungcheol takes the condom from his hand and sets it on the bed, looks across at Wonwoo and grips his cock with the confidence of someone who knows they’re good at it. And he is, _god_ , Seungcheol’s hand slides tortuously up the shaft and Wonwoo’s vision turns to static. His hands are bigger than Wonwoo’s, dizzying in their dexterity. Seungcheol’s eyes are half lidded as he gathers precum, working his hand back down in an easy glide. Wonwoo groans, hips canting forward, chasing. 

Seungcheol indulges him, strokes him until he’s satisfied. He feels like a rubber band about to snap by the time Seungcheol picks up the condom and rolls it on. He flops back against the bed, pleased.

“Stop thinking so hard about it and just fuck me.” Wonwoo frowns, hand freezing where he’s half smeared with lube. “I can see it all over your face.” Seungcheol smiles, gentle and soft and warm. “We can talk about it later. Right now I want you.” His eyes darken. He bites his lip. “Need you, Alpha.”

It’s unfair how violently Wonwoo’s body reacts to Seungcheol. He groans, hand tightening as he finishes slicking himself up. He slides his hands indulgently up the backs of Seungcheol’s thighs, lining up and pushing in, slow, careful. It’s too easy again.

“Not just fingers,” Wonwoo grits out, heavy with desire and amazement. He locks eyes with Seungcheol and gets a nod of agreement. “God, _what did you_ —”

Seungcheol groans as Wonwoo slides deeper. “Next time, I’ll show you.”

It’s the thought of Seungcheol blissed out, fucking himself open with god knows what, that has him digging his fingers tight into Seungcheol’s hips. He bottoms out in no time at all, stares down at Seungcheol, stubbornly waiting for him to say he’s okay. 

Instinct is easy to ignore. Except in rut. Right now, all Wonwoo wants to do is fuck Seungcheol until he’s knotted, fast and rough with no care about Seungcheol’s pleasure, to litter him with marks of blatant possession. But Seungcheol’s fingers slide up to meet his, lacing together over his hip, and even baser instinct is easy to forget in the face of the man beneath him. 

“Kiss me,” Seungcheol says, all dimpled smile and flushed cheeks. So Wonwoo does. It’s a slow, lazy thing even as his cock twitches inside of him. Seungcheol keeps playing with the barbell in his tongue and it’s maddening, jolts of want through his entire body. When they break apart Wonwoo grips Seungcheol’s hips with both hands and gives an experimental thrust that has them both gasping. 

“Don’t tease,” Seungcheol whines. He plants one foot on the bed and works himself down on Wonwoo’s cock, grinning when he hisses. “And don’t stop.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, feigned annoyance at best, and moves. It’s faster than Seungcheol is expecting, Wonwoo can tell from the way his eyes flutter closed and his hands drift to the sheets, twisting as he arches into it. Later, Wonwoo is going to take him apart bit by bit, find everything that makes Seungcheol feel good and spend hours doing every single one, but now, arousal is almost painful, the need to knot insistent. 

Seungcheol rolls his hips against him, matching him the whole way. It’s perfect, it’s too good. Wonwoo is desperate for release, his body nearly shaking. And it’s like Seungcheol knows, blinking up at him with blown pupils. He reaches down and takes his cock in his hand, strokes himself at the same pace. The way he tightens at the contact has Wonwoo breathless. He slams into Seungcheol, brushes past his prostate and they both moan.

Wonwoo is rougher after that, his hips sure to bruise from the strength he puts into each thrust, but the way Seungcheol’s breath hitches each time makes it worth it. He can tell that Seungcheol is getting close. His hips slam back against him, edging on desperate, his own hand speeding up on his cock. His scent drowns out everything. The desire to lean down, to sink his teeth in deep, to mark, _claim, mine_ is a constant buzz under his skin. Seungcheol shudders, blinks wide eyes up at him. Wonwoo’s hips stutter.

“Wonwoo, please,” Seungcheol grits out, “Mark me, please, I want —”

It’s everything Wonwoo has ever wanted, offered freely. To mark Seungcheol, to have him, to commit to _being with him_. Seungcheol beneath him and Seungcheol beside him and Seungcheol sipping coffee at his breakfast nook on Sunday morning, lazy grin and messy kisses, and his. 

It’s years of training that keeps Wonwoo from sinking his teeth into his neck. Instead, he leans down and kisses him, fucks into him faster, snakes his hand down over Seungcheol’s and strokes his cock. Seungcheol moans into his mouth, sinking teeth into Wonwoo’s bottom lip as his knot starts to swell.

“Close,” Seungcheol pants between kisses. Wonwoo hums, adjusts the angle of his thrusts and Seungcheol gasps. 

“There you go,” Wonwoo murmurs into his mouth. “That’s it. Let go, Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol’s thighs tense around him. He lets out a half choked sound and comes, spilling over their hands. Wonwoo kisses him, drinks down every sound he makes, works him through it and loses himself to the hazy desperation. The need to knot, to come, arousal that’s been thrumming through him finally pours over. Wonwoo buries himself as deep as he can and comes. Seungcheol winds his arms up and kisses the side of his neck, sending another jolt of pleasure through him. It’s gentle, too, in a way that Wonwoo should expect by now but that still feels new every time.

Wonwoo turns them carefully so they’re face to face. He can’t stop running his hands along Seungcheol’s skin, and part of it is the endorphins, the rush of hormones, but most of it is because Seungcheol is here, with him, in his bed. Something he’s wanted so much he hardly dared to think about it, like a perfect soap bubble, float too high and it’ll burst.

Seungcheol’s eyes are closed, blissed out. He arches into Wonwoo’s hands like a cat in the sun. It’s comfortable in the quiet, Wonwoo tracing the lines of his ribs. When Seungcheol opens his eyes he smiles, leaning closer to bump their noses together. Wonwoo wrinkles his and Seungcheol grins.

“Thank you,” he says. Up close, Wonwoo can see the swirls of amber hiding in the brown of his eyes. 

“Isn’t that my line?” Wonwoo asks. Seungcheol reaches out and tangles their hands together. 

“Not for the sex.” He looks down and takes a breath before meeting Wonwoo’s eyes again. “It’s not that I don’t want you to, I mean, I do, I just think it’s —”

The lightbulb flashes. Wonwoo grins.

“Do you sleep with a lot of Alphas who can’t tell when someone wants to be marked and when they’re talking in the heat of the moment?”

Seungcheol huffs. “I wanted it, and I saw it all over your face. You wanted to mark me too, but you didn’t.”

Wonwoo’s face burns. _You’re always more inclined to talk after you’ve knotted something_. Jeonghan’s words ring loud in his ears. He never said it wasn’t true. 

“I just,” Wonwoo sighs. Seungcheol squeezes his hand, calm and grounding and he’s never going to get enough of it. He owes it to him, to their years of friendship, and especially to the delicate thing between them to finish. “I want it to be something we both want, something special. I want it to mean something.”

Seungcheol’s got that look on his face, like he’s just realized something extremely obvious. Wonwoo will probably spend his entire life pouring out the years worth of affection he’s been storing up for the man in front of him. They lean in for a kiss at the same time, speaking without speaking. _I know. I understand. Me too_.

They pass the time easily, Seungcheol smearing his come all over Wonwoo’s skin with a wicked grin, Wonwoo sucking a mark under Seungcheol’s jaw as payback. He laments for a moment at how much of his skin is left bare, but there’s time to sneak in some more before his rut ends. When he’s finally able to pull out he lets out a contented sigh, staring at the line of Seungcheol’s body while he takes care of the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the trash.

“Shower,” Wonwoo says, rolling off the bed and holding a hand out for Seungcheol. “Then maybe another round. Or maybe I'll just blow you again.”

Seungcheol smirks, stretching with a groan before taking his hand. 

“Just how many times does it take to settle you down?”

It’s Wonwoo’s turn to smirk, tugging Seungcheol flush against him, his body already flaring up with arousal. 

“It’ll be easier to show you.”

  
  
  
  


~☊~☊~☊~☊~

  
  
  
  


After a shower that’s equal parts cleaning up and wringing another orgasm out of each other, he finally finds the words he’s been looking for for weeks. 

“You asked me how long,” Wonwoo says. Seungcheol shivers in his arms as his breath puffs across the back of his neck. “Do you remember when you told me about the loan? You asked me to think about coming with you.”

Seungcheol hums and pulls Wonwoo’s arm tighter around his waist. 

“I remember when I said I didn’t want to do it without you, that you —” Seungcheol stops, his whole body frozen. He grips Wonwoo’s hand between both of his.

It’s a long time before he speaks again. He turns over so they’re face to face, Wonwoo’s hand still between his. 

“You looked at me like I said something you weren’t expecting,” Seungcheol whispers. The same understanding he’s had since the office, but deeper. Like he’s finally seeing all the way into Wonwoo’s soul. It feels nice. Wonwoo hasn’t been seen by many people in his life. “Is that when? Have you really...since _then_?”

Heat creeps up Wonwoo’s cheeks. Out loud it sounds more embarrassing than romantic, a lovesick fool, desperate enough to leave a good job and take a huge risk because of a silly crush.

“I’ve always respected your work,” Wonwoo says softly. Seungcheol looks at him, open and easy, like Wonwoo could tell him anything. “I didn’t decide to come because I had feelings for you. I, I don’t want you to think —” 

Seungcheol leans forward and kisses him, a soft press of lips. It’s almost like they’re connected, like Seungcheol is saying all the things Wonwoo needs to hear. 

“You’ve always cared about patients more than the hospital red tape allowed you to,” Seungcheol says when they break apart. “I knew you’d like the freedom. You’re one of the smartest people I know. Well, except when it comes to your own feelings, maybe.”

Seungcheol grins and Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

“I am perfectly capable of recognizing my own feelings,” Wonwoo huffs. He’s only pouting a little bit. 

Seungcheol reaches out and thumbs his cheek. “I’m _here_ , and I want to know all of your feelings, and more than that I want you to tell me them. Even if you can’t explain right away, I still want to know.”

Wonwoo groans, covering his eyes with their joined hands. Seungcheol is right, but it’s not black and white. Wonwoo doesn’t know how to say, _I’d rather make things harder for me than ever be a burden to you_. If Seungcheol hasn’t figured this part out yet, it’s only a matter of time before he does.

“You don’t have to handle me with kid gloves,” he says softly. “I...will try.” He pulls their hands down to nose level, the smallest bit of protection even as he meets Seungcheol’s eyes. “Just because I’ve always done something a certain way doesn't mean I can’t change it. You’ll go easy on me, right?”

Seungcheol grins. “Never.”

Wonwoo’s heart hammers away, beating in time to three syllables.

  
  
  


~☊~☊~☊~☊~

  
  
  


Seungcheol makes his way into Wonwoo’s office after a quick set of knocks on the door. He waits until Wonwoo hums an acknowledgment before he opens the door (walking in on him once was enough, really). He’s got two buttons undone, and the back of his hair is sticking up like he’s been running his fingers through it.

Seungcheol sits on the corner of his desk and takes the paper out of Wonwoo’s hand.

“What’s this?” he asks, glancing at the scrawled handwriting.

Wonwoo frowns. “That’s confidential. You’re not supposed to look at my client’s information without permission.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes but sets the paper on Wonwoo’s desk. He’d rather their first fight not be over client confidentiality.

“I wanted to make sure you were still okay with me coming over tonight,” he says. 

He’s going to Jeonghan and Joshua’s later tonight. Not for Joshua, this time. Jeonghan’s heat is a two day affair he purposefully drags out into three, and since their arrangement he’s always asked Seungcheol over to help. Joshua likes the familiarity of having him there, likes to tease Jeonghan until he begs, a perfect mirror of each other. Seungcheol is just glad he can help out his friends. 

(And then go home to his boyfriend. It’s still new enough to be thrilling.) 

Seungcheol and Wonwoo had an official key exchange a few weeks ago. It makes everything feel more serious, even though Jihoon had to tell him it was part of the betting pool and that he was out twenty thousand won because Wonwoo had never taken his key back after his rut.

(“I should have known Wonwoo would conveniently forget,” Jihoon had said, frowning. “I was sure you’d do it first.”)

Wonwoo looks up at him, his bangs obscuring his eyes, and hums.

“Of course. I’ve got a bit more to do here, but I’ll be home before you finish. Probably.”

Seungcheol grins at him, reaching across the desk to push his bangs out of his eyes. Wonwoo tries to look annoyed but he’s got a tiny, pleased smile on his lips. Seungcheol wants to kiss him until the stress bleeds out of his posture.

“Is that some kind of dig at my performance, or at your ability to finish work in a timely manner?”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, opening the small drawer on the side of his desk and setting his keys on top of the wood. 

“See, I’ve already got my keys. I’ll be out of here in no time,” Wonwoo says, looking back to him with something almost like relief. 

He likes to be taken care of. Seungcheol thinks it but doesn’t say anything. It works out really well, because acts of service is definitely his love language.

“And no,” Wonwoo continues, “I would never joke about your performance.”

Seungcheol sets his feet back on the carpet and stands up. “Good. I’ll text you when I’m on the way.”

Wonwoo turns back to the papers on his desk with a nod. Sometimes it feels like they’ve been dating for years instead of months. There’s an easy comfort to it. Seungcheol used to feel like he had no idea what Wonwoo was thinking, and now it’s as easy as the twitch of his mouth, the sound of his sigh, the way his eyes catch the light when they look at each other.

Seungcheol turns to leave when something about Wonwoo’s keys stops him. It’s a tiny keychain, battered from years of use, an acrylic black cat with vivid green eyes. Seungcheol reaches for it without thinking.

“This is…” he starts. His fingers make contact with the keychain and Wonwoo slips his hand on top like he’s pinning him in place. “Is this from our first Christmas party? When I picked you for gift exchange?”

When he looks over Wonwoo’s ears are bright red. He meets Seungcheol’s eyes for just a moment before looking down at their hands.

“I — yes, it is,” Wonwoo stutters out. His cheeks are tinged pink too. Seungcheol wants to kiss him until they run out of air. 

He puts his other hand on Wonwoo’s cheek, turning his eyes back to him. Seungcheol’s smile is so big it almost hurts. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually use it, and I never thought you’d have it after all these years.”

Wonwoo’s fingers lace with his own for a moment before letting go. “I like cats. It was a good present, makes my keys really easy to find.”

 _I’m in love with you_ , Seungcheol thinks but doesn’t say. _I love you_.

He knows they’re both thinking it, have been for a while now, can see it in the way Wonwoo’s eyes light up when they see each other. He kind of wants to see if Wonwoo will say it first.

Maybe he’ll get in on the betting pool and win them both some date money.

“I’ll be sure to keep getting you practical gifts then,” Seungcheol teases, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before heading toward the door. “I’ll swing by my place before so I can shower and change.”

“Don’t,” Wonwoo says, a little too fast. “You can smell like them. I don’t mind.”

Seungcheol turns back around to face him, smirking at how dark Wonwoo’s eyes are. “I know you don’t mind, _Alpha_.” Wonwoo takes a deep breath and Seungcheol goes hot all over. “I’ll tell you all about it tonight. As much as I can. You know they like to keep some things private.”

It took a few weeks of gentle coaxing to get Wonwoo to admit that he enjoys the thought of Seungcheol sleeping with other people. It took working him to orgasm with three fingers and his mouth to get Wonwoo to admit how hot it makes him to smell other people on him. Getting Wonwoo to open up is a work in progress. The irony in sex being the way to do it isn’t lost on him.

Seungcheol leaves Wonwoo’s office with a wink and a blown kiss, holding the tiny, fond smile still on his lips when he shuts the door behind him. Seungcheol will go to Jeonghan’s apartment to be loved, and then he’ll go to Wonwoo’s apartment for more. And the truth is that Seungcheol is always surrounded by love, though it’s taken him a long time to recognize it. 

Love takes many forms, hides in plain sight. Like Jihoon bringing enough food for them to share. Like the post-its with pictures of puppies Sunmi uses only for him. Like an acrylic keychain, worn and cherished and loved. He’s surrounded by so much of it that all he can do is give it back, twice as much as he’s given.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/woncheoling) // [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/tsukkitaeil)


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